Chasing Echoes
by DarkDragonne
Summary: The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Egypt. Come morning, Castiel remembered nothing. The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in a place that would come to be called Africa. The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Babel. The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Sodom. The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Jerusalem.


_So this was inspired by 8.21, when Castiel asked Naomi how many times had she wiped his head. Which got me thinking- how many "Deans" were there really? How many humans had Castiel fought for and ended up killing and forgetting? And then this fic was born. And I know 8.22 is alomst upon us, so I had to post quickly, so it's unbeta'd. Hopefully it's still readable though._

_Also, I've seen a theory making its way around the internet that Castiel had met previous versions of Dean's soul or something like that. I suppose you could read this fic in that way, but I didn't have that in mind when I wrote._

_Also, I'm not religious, but I was forced to learn the bible in school so... here I am_

_Warnings: character death, genocide, hints at sodomy (literally, it's in Sodom), Naomi (deserves a warning in herself), historical and biblical inaccuracies, blasphemy_

_Pairings: none, unless you want to read it as such (I do)_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in a place that would come to be called Africa, only a few dozen short millennia after that fish had crawled out of the sea.

Life was finally evolving on Earth, the archangels said, God's chosen children were coming. The news was greeted with joy throughout the heavenly host, with only a few exceptions, the greatest of these being the archangel Lucifer, who was well-loved enough to be tolerated for his unjustified anger at the humans. It was almost with curiosity that he was allowed to speak his mind to the entire host, and Castiel, who had been a young Seraph at the time, listened.

"You all speak with such joy of those humans," the Morningstar said, voice laden with the scorn he'd carried since their Father's disappearance, "but can you not see that they are flawed? They murder each other, their two races unable to coexist! How are we to love such creatures if they cannot even love each other?"

His words stirred murmurs of dissent through his audience, for many others had secretly entertained similar thoughts. The tension between the two races of humans was palpable. The species which will call itself Sapiens and the one that would be called Neanderthals constantly competing for food and territory, killing each other in masses the primitive creatures couldn't even comprehend. Castiel harbored no doubts about them, however. He was loyal to God's commands, and set to love all His children equally.

"Peace, Brother," Michael, leader of heaven, replied, "There is truth in your words, but I am certain we are missing the true solution our Father intended this problem. For there is one, I assure you." That was enough to satisfy most of the angels- Michael's word was all but law.

Several earth years later, Michael and his council finally announced their decision. The two species of humans could not coexist, therefore, one had to die. Seraphs were sent to take vessels anywhere the humans had spread, find which humans held the most merit, which deserved to live and which deserved to die. And if there was any doubt in Castiel's mind about the justice of these actions, he quickly pushed it down.

It was on this assignment that Castiel took his first vessel, a Neanderthal male with dark hair and eyes. He arrived at a settlement with Uriel, a fellow soldier in his garrison, who'd also chosen a male vessel, and Anael, their commander, who'd taken a female with light hair.

It was not easy for the humans to understand the angels' purpose in coming to their village. The vessel's they'd taken were from Neanderthals in different settlements, so that they wouldn't be mistaken for residents of the settlement. But it was difficult to explain what an angel was to a people that knew nothing of the world or of God, and the humans' language was primitive and stunted, not fit for the intricacies of the explanation required.

The first conversation they'd held after arriving at the village had been fairly one-sided, and they refrained from attempting such a conversation again afterwards.

"Greetings," Anael had said. "We are angels of the Lord, and we come in peace." Even in that simple sentence there were several words the humans had no name for, and she was forced to substitute them with words in Enochian. She received mostly blank looks, and by the end of her struggle with their language she'd only managed to explain they were strangers, powerful ones, that were to be treated with respect.

Upon hearing this, the people took them in as their own. They were allowed to eat with the humans and sit around their fire inside their wood and bone structures. For the angels, it meant their work was easier- the opportunity they were given was the perfect chance to observe and judge these humans.

Castiel watched the comings and goings of the people with detached curiosity, both impressed and disappointed. Their society was different than the angels'. It was more personal, focusing on the individuals rather than the tribe. The humans truly were something else, bickering over small things such as spare pieces of meat or a place by the fire, but sometimes one would offer a scrap of their own free will, a gesture of kindness he hadn't expected to find. But the humans were not clever. Not yet. Castiel knew they had a long way to go before they were all the angels had been told to expect. Their minds were as primitive as their language, and they were still not much more than animals. Uriel in particular enjoyed calling them "hairless monkeys", much to Anael's disapproval.

Castiel didn't know what had drawn him to the human near the edge of the room. Anael had been trying to explain their presence to the humans, to no avail, and Uriel simply stood to the side, watching haughtily, when the man had caught Castiel's eyes. The angel had noticed those green eyes watching him for several hours, shining with uncharacteristic intelligence.

He didn't know why he'd walked over to the human, why he'd felt the urge to talk to that enquiring green stare. "Hello." He said, and the human nodded in greeting. "Castiel," he said, pointing to himself. The concept of names was foreign to those humans. He'd heard several other tribes had developed them, but here, a person was a person and that was it. The man tilted his head slightly to the side, and Castiel found himself mirroring the motion. "Castiel," He pointed at himself again.

The human's brow furrowed, and Castiel half-expected him to walk away. Instead, his mouth opened, and instead of speaking in the Neanderthal's own language, he pointed hesitantly at the angel. "C… C… Cas."

"Castiel," He encouraged, the human's understanding stirring an edge of excitement.

"Cas." The human insisted stubbornly.

The shortened version of his name felt inappropriate, somehow, but for now, it was enough. "Angel." He said in Enochian, gesturing first to himself and then to Uriel and Anael.

"Ang'l." The man repeated dutifully, a hint of a grin showing on his face.

"Man." Castiel gestured at several humans, including the one in front of him. In that manner he managed to teach him several other Enochian words, as well as explain that they came from the sky to watch the people who lived here. At some point throughout the night, he saw Anael give him a knowing smile, but she did not interfere, and he was glad for it.

When the time came to report back to heaven, he was almost sad to leave. Parting from the green-eyed man was difficult, and pride rose in him when the human told him "I see you tomorrow Cas" in broken Enochian. With no clear definition for time and its passage, the human couldn't tell the difference between the future in general and "tomorrow".

This world the humans lived in was, Castiel observed, very different from anything heaven had to offer. He could only hope he would be sent back someday, to see how far they'd come. And even though he was not supposed to have an opinion on whether the Sapiens or Neanderthals should be chosen to survive, he found himself hoping it would be the Neanderthals.

And then heaven made its decision.

Lucifer and Michael had argued over it for days, Lucifer insisting the Sapiens, who were, according to the reports, less intelligent than the Neanderthals, with a language even more primitive and tools less productive, should be allowed to live, for if the more intelligent species would survive they would try to be gods, and turn on heaven. Michael insisted the ones Father had gifted with greater intelligence should remain on His earth, for they were of superior design.

Raphael had shown inclination to support Lucifer, and Gabriel defended the Neanderthal's right to live, and in the end Michael caved to appease Lucifer, who'd been showing dangerous, destructive tendencies lately. Gabriel, as the youngest of the archangels, couldn't stand alone against his brothers, and with reluctance, he gave in too. And heaven's decree was passed- the Neanderthals had to die.

Castiel was commanded to smite them with the rest of the Seraphs in his garrison, to destroy the village and every last human in it.

"No."

He hadn't even realized it was he who'd spoken.

"No?" Anael asked, her tone worried. And he understood why- disobedience was the worst crime an angel could commit. Those found guilty were either reeducated through some means or another and returned to God's path or, if they were too far gone, disappeared. No one knew who executed the punishments, or how. But it was a fate all wished to avoid. He hadn't even considered it before, but now…

"Come with me," he told Anael, "You know what the archangels are doing is wrong. We can stop them. We can—"

He never got to finish his sentence. One moment he was talking to Anael, the next, he was in a room he did not know, facing an angel he'd never seen.

"Castiel." The angel in front of him said. "My name is Naomi."

He'd never heard of her. "Why am I here?"

"Your thoughts were brought to my notice," her voice was strict and business-like. "Tell me, Castiel, why are you refusing to obey your superiors and kill the humans?"

And he told her. Clinging to a final hope that he could convince her, gain an ally in his futile struggle, he told her about his short time with the people, all he'd seen, the man who'd called him Cas, that same man he'd taught Enochian, who'd understood what he was trying to say.

When he was done, he looked at Naomi with naked hope radiating from him. But she only shook her head sadly. "That won't do, Castiel."

"But…"

"You must not disobey heaven's orders." And then there were two more angels behind him, strapping him down to a chair and fitting a device over his head. He struggled and screamed, called out for his garrison and his Father and Anael and Uriel and Balthazar, even for the human man with the green eyes. His captors were relentless, as if they were used to doing this, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. He could gain no advantage over them, and as Naomi advanced on him, she was void of emotion, also used to this situation, having seen so many disobedient angels punished in the exact same way.

"It won't hurt." She said in a voice that was all but reassuring. "Much." And then she was holding a silver needle aimed at his eye.

She'd lied.

When she was done with him, he was Castiel again. An angel of the Lord. He knew his place and purpose, knew who his masters were. He did not serve humans. He did not serve the green-eyed man.

"You must kill him, Castiel," Naomi commanded, and he nodded, knowing she was right. This was the only way he could be free of the seed of disobedience that had almost taken over him. This was the only way he could avoid being an abomination.

The next day, he was sent down with the Seraphs to destroy the Neanderthals. His vessel felt as if it didn't fit was well as it had, but that was fine. He was no human. His human body did not have to be comfortable. It only had to serve its purpose. As did he.

The humans recognized Anael, Uriel, and himself when they came, and grinned with joy at their approach. From the corner of his vessel's eye, Castiel, saw a figure break away from the ranks of its tribe and run towards the angels. Recognition gleamed in green eyes, and the man called out "Cas!", his face radiating happiness at seeing his friend again.

For a moment, Castiel found himself wishing the man didn't have to die. And then he was in the room with Naomi again, the words "kill him!" repeating over and over, only to be back on earth within less than a second.

Castiel never once broke eye contact with the man as he drew his angel blade and stabbed him through the chest.

When the light faded from those green eyes, so intelligent yet filled with betrayal, Castiel burned down the rest of the village as well. He felt no remorse for the deed, or for the man's death. He was a servant of heaven. And he'd done the right thing.

"You have done well." He was in the room with Naomi again, and her face bore the barest hint of a smile. "Now, forget."

He was Castiel. A captain under Anael's command, a soldier of heaven, and angel of Thursday. He greeted the cleansers of humanity as they returned to heaven, congratulating them on a job well done and their success in wiping out the Neanderthals. He hadn't been able to accompany them on this mission, having been assigned to stay behind and guard heaven until its main force returned._ Next time_, he thought_, Next time I shall partake in such an important mission as well._ He was curious to see the humans, to know what taking a vessel felt like. He had never even spoken with a human before.

He had never considered rebellion.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Babel, when the humans built their tower to the sky.

He'd watched the humans with curiosity since they'd crawled out of the seas and climbed down from the trees, observing from afar.

"Don't step on that fish," he remembered being told, "We have big plans for that fish." He couldn't remember which of his brothers had said that. Many of his memories were blurred of late, details forgotten in the grand scheme of things, buried deep in his consciousness. He'd come to accept it as a fact of his existence, though, and did not question his muddled memories.

Whoever had told him not to step on the fish had been right. Humans, in their constantly evolving state, had come a long way from the cavemen they'd once been. They had a civilization now, a great nation in the metaphorical center of the world. They were united, and more of them poured in every day, pilgrims to the great human empire. They thrived, their language flowered and became complex, their buildings growing stronger and more pleasing to the eye.

And then they started to build the tower. It was Gabriel, the messenger, who'd brought it to heaven's attention. The tower in itself was not very high, although it was greater than anything the humans had attempted to build before. But the true danger Michael perceived did not lie in the tower, but in the intentions behind it.

Castiel was sent down to earth with Anael and Uriel and Rachel, all veterans of the Neanderthal extinction but himself. He was honored to take his place among them, to choose his first vessel, a male with dark skin and darker hair. Their small group made their way to the tower in the guise of pilgrims, humans who wished to join the nation in the tower.

They were welcomed with open arms, and led to their quarters in different parts of the tower. Anael and Rachel, in their female vessels, were separated from Uriel and himself, and Anael claimed it was a good thing- this would give them an opportunity to explore more of the tower. The room Castiel and Uriel were taken to, near the base of the tower, was already home to three other men, making them a total of five residents. Uriel remained stoic throughout the human's greetings, and Castiel knew his disdain for mankind made it difficult for his brother to maintain his cover.

Remembering their mission, Castiel turned to one of the men, a tall individual with light hair and green eyes that somehow seemed familiar. "I would appreciate it I you could show me this place you have been building. I am a newcomer, and I wish to observe what I have joined." He knew his speech was not quite like a human's speech, for the Enochian he was used to, with all its subtleties and intricate designs, was difficult to translate into the human tongue.

"It would be my pleasure," The man replied, and gestured for Castiel to follow him out of the room. Uriel's face darkened as he left, although Castiel could not see why.

"Our tower will someday reach the sky." The human said with enthusiasm once they stood on the top of the tower, watching the workers labor over it. "We shall make a name for ourselves, and be as gods!" His face shown with fervor at the prospect, and Castiel understood why heaven had seen the need to deal with this tower. "We will no longer be spread across the world," he continued, "Imagine that! You come from afar, I was told, so you must know of the hardships of wandering alone! But we can prevent these hardships! Imagine all the humans together, united! Masters of the earth!"

Castiel couldn't imagine that. He could not imagine at all. Angels were not built to imagine. But he recognized the dream the man talked about. All the people, in one place, like gods, masters of their realm… it sounded as though the humans wished to build for themselves a version of heaven. And humans must not be allowed to do so. The tower might never reach the sky, but its people, in their dreams and ambition and hubris, might. The sky was forbidden to them. They needed to be stopped.

And in his report to heaven, Castiel said as much.

The archangels sent the four Seraphs back, though, to spend one final day among the humans, study them and their tower, devise the best way to destroy them and prevent such a thing from happening again.

"Could you give me a hand?" A voice to his right asked as he stood on the roof of the tower, studying the lay of the stones and the base that held them together. It was the same green-eyed human from the previous day, struggling to lift a stone block as large as he was.

"I would rather not cut off my hand…" even though it would not hurt him much, he wished to keep his vessel in good shape, as he'd promised the man who'd let him take over.

"Very funny," the man replied with a hint of a grin twisting through his red face that was sweaty from the heat. "Are you going to help me lift this block or not?"

So that was what he had meant. Humans had a strange, roundabout way of saying simple things, quite unlike the straightforward communication he was used to. He nodded and took the other side of the block in hand, curiosity as to what working in the human way felt like. He could simply move it with his grace, of course, but that would reveal him for what he was and detract from the experience. What was the harm in helping the humans with their construction, he reasoned, if he would bring it down later anyway?

It was odd to build something with his own hands. He was stronger than the humans, and when that fact was observed his help was requested in various parts of the tower. He worked for hours without tiring, and while he did not treat the humans with the same kinship they seemed to extend to him, he found himself almost enjoying their company, the banter they shot back and forth.

"Where did you find him?" The green eyed man was asked several times, and his replies always varied between the truth and some outrageous lie Castiel assumed was meant to be funny, judging by the men's laughter.

At some point, he noticed his fellow angels watching, Uriel with a frown on his face and Anael with an almost wistful look, as if she wished to join in as well. But she couldn't, as the men of the tower did not take kindly to females working in the construction, and Anael was too proud to cook and weave with the tower's women.

By the time the sun set, Castiel understood why the humans wanted to build the tower, why they wanted to stay together and not scatter across the world. He knew the tower went against several laws left behind by God when he'd disappeared, and he knew why its existence did not bode well for heaven, but he no longer wished to see it destroyed. And in the end, he ended up saying as much.

"We can't let heaven destroy them," Castiel told his companions after the moon had risen and he'd excused himself from the work. "Look at them. Look at what they are building? Can you not see the greatness of it?"

"No, I cannot." Uriel replied flatly, "And neither should you. All I can see is a nation of monkeys trying to be gods."

"But can you blame them for trying to make the best of the lot they were given?" Castiel challenged, "Or do you believe they should roll in the dirt for the rest of eternity despite their capability for more?"

"Castiel has a point," Anael surprisingly took his side, "but nonetheless, heaven has reached a decision, and—"

"So you will obey blindly and destroy yet another civilization?" Castiel didn't know where the rage at the destruction of civilizations had come from, or which other civilization he had been speaking of.

"What she is trying to tell you—" Uriel started, but Rachel cut him off with a sharp glare on her face.

"Enough!" She commanded. "We were given our orders, Castiel." They were all watching him, and through the connection they shared he could feel their emotions, tense and worried over something he couldn't grasp. And he reached a decision.

"Very well." He said, guarding his face and keeping his own emotions private. "I shall do as heaven desires." He turned away from the other angels and started walking in the direction of the workers. "But I only request a few moments." He would warn them, he decided. He could tell them to get away, that they couldn't save the tower, but at least their own lives would be spared.

"Castiel."

He was in a room he'd never seen before, even though he'd been in the tower only moments ago. There was an angel he didn't recognize in the room with him, a desk, and a chair.

"Who are you?" He asked with suspicion. "Why am I here?"

"My name is Naomi," the angel replied calmly, "and you are here because you disobeyed."

There had to be a mistake. He had entertained those thoughts, yes, but he hadn't told a single human about heaven's plans.

"You did disobey, Castiel," Naomi said as if she had read his mind. "You have worked with the humans as one of them. You argued against the orders you were given. And you wished to warn the humans of the destruction of their tower."

"I did what I believed to be right."

"You did _wrong_!"

When she was done with him, when she had finished poking and prodding and sticking needles in his eyes, he was Castiel again. An angel of the Lord. He knew his place and purpose, knew who his masters were. He did not serve humans. He did not serve the green-eyed man.

He was back on earth, and no time had passed. He was still facing the workers of the tower, and he could feel his companions watching him, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Our work begins." Castiel turned back to them, moving slightly more awkwardly in his vessel than he had. "This tower must not be built."

"Castiel?" The green-eyed human who'd used him to do his work like a mere human asked with hesitation, "What do you mean by that?"

Castiel's only answer was to run him through with his blade. A chord of regret strummed through Castiel's being, a flash of pain with an origin he did not know. With a twinge, he realized he hadn't even learned the man's name. He pushed it aside, dismissing it as remnants of his disobedience hat had to be crushed. And when the men realized what had happened and the rest of the heavenly host had descended as well, pandemonium broke out.

It took a long time to raze the tower and scatter its inhabitants to the winds, giving them all new languages and cultures so they could no longer come together in such an endeavor. But by dawn, heaven had its victory, and the sky remained the realm of God and his children. The land in which the tower had been built was now known as Babel, a mockery of the Hebrew word for confusion.

And Castiel was in that room with Naomi again, sitting at the chair as she stood above him. "You have done well," she said. "Now forget."

He was Castiel, Captain of a small squad in Anael's garrison. He was the angel of Thursday, and he had been a part of the destruction of the Babel tower. He'd joined the forces after the scouts that had been sent to earth declared the mission was to begin. He'd never taken a vessel for himself. He'd never spoken with a human.

He had never considered rebellion.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Sodom, when he had been sent along with his brother, Balthazar, to find ten righteous men in the city of sin.

The two had looked all over Sodom, but found only one, which was not enough to spare the city. "It is just as well," Castiel told his brother, to whom he had grown close over recent years. He and Balthazar were very different from each other, yet sometimes it felt like Balthazar was the only one who was not wary of growing close to the angel with the holes in his memory. For that was what Castiel was- cursed with gaps and contradictions in his mind that he could not explain. Anael and Rachel and Uriel did not seem to mind, but they were ever watchful, as though they were afraid he would do something foolish. Which was, of course, ridiculous. Castiel was a loyal soldier.

Nonetheless, he was grateful when Balthazar was the angel sent down with him to claim their vessels. They worked well together, and his brother marveled at humanity's wonders as much as he did.

"Sodom is a stain on humanity," he commented as they stood on a hilltop overlooking the city. "This world would be better off without it."

"They deserve a chance, Cassie." Balthazar said with that flippant, almost human attitude that dubbed him somewhat of an outsider in heaven as well.

"They had all the chances they deserved. We couldn't find ten righteous men here. This city is teeming with sinners, every man and woman and child." The things they had seen done in the city would have been enough to make Castiel sick, if he were human.

"So you really think we should kill them all?"

"Not all. The righteous man, Lot. He and his family will be given the chance to leave this city before its time is due. The others… yes." It was how heaven worked, smooth and cold and strict. This was the only way to keep the humans in line.

"If you say so…" Balthazar did not look pleased at the decision, but he did not pursue the subject. "Let us then go to your man, Lot, and inform him of the situation."

They flew to the entrance of Lot's house and knocked upon his door, which was opened immediately as Lot, a tall man with dark hair ushered them inside. "Greetings, strangers," he bowed. "Please, come inside. This city is not safe for travelers. My family and I shall prepare a feast in your honor, but then I am afraid you must leave, for your own safety.

"Thank you for your kindness." Castiel said, realizing that this was a man that truly deserved to be saved.

Balthazar noticed Lot's daughters less than an hour after their arrival, and immediately winked at Castiel and went over to speak with them. Castiel disapproved, but it was not his place to chastise his brother. Unlike himself, Balthazar had taken several vessels before, and had slept with several humans. Before the flood, when angels and human women had mingles and the Nephilim were born, Balthazar had been on earth, and Castiel suspected several of those monstrous children were his.

He himself had never quite been drawn to sex and human partners, despite Balthazar's effort to show him otherwise. Those distractions had no place in his life. Instead of joining Balthazar in courting the young women, Castiel found himself in a conversation with Lot, while the man's wife worked on their food in the background. He asked Lot about Sodom and about where he had come from, about the men of the city and about Lot's hopes of moving elsewhere.

Eventually, Lot excused himself to look at the draft in the eastern wall of his home, and Castiel politely refused his invitation to join him and remained behind, watching the woman as she worked.

"What do you think of this city?" He asked her, and she turned towards him, surprised, as if she hadn't expected to be addressed. She probably hadn't- from what Castiel had been told, humans did not treat their women with respect.

"It is my home," she replied after a long last, finally looking up at him with startlingly green eyes. "This is where I raised my daughters. This is where I have lived for many long years. I know the people here can be cruel, but nonetheless, this is where I belong."

Surprised at the firmness in her voice, he asked, "And your husband?"

"My husband is a good man." It sounded almost like a mantra, and from the emotions the woman radiated, he could see it was something she had told herself repeatedly after their arranged marriage, a means of convincing herself the words were true. "He protects us from the men of this city."

There was much left unsaid in the statement, but before he could pursue the subject further, she declared the food was ready and called her husband from outside to eat.

Several hours later, after the food had been served and they were sated, Castiel still enthusing over the fact that food, while not necessary, could be so enjoyable, another knock came at the door.

A shadow passed over Lot's face, and he turned to the angels and his wife. "The men of the city are here. Strangers, if you wish to leave this place safely, do not leave this house." And he was gone, to exchange angry words with the men outside.

'_Bring us the strangers,' _as a celestial being, Castiel was able to hear the unfamiliar male voice. _'Send them out to us, so we may know them.'_ He exchanged a look with Balthazar, who was suddenly serious again. These men did not know what they were, or else they would be terrified at even suggesting they 'know' them, but the very notion disgusted him.

'_Please!'_ Lot argued, _'I have two daughters who never knew a man! Take them and leave the guests!'_

A horrified whimper came from the younger of the two girls, and her mother clasped the child's hand and spoke softly to her in reassuring tones, maintaining a calm mask in all but her eyes, which reflected the fear and betrayal she felt, and her disappointment in her husband. She watched the angels with a look that was part glare and part pleading, and Castiel nodded to her. This woman was strong, and had done her best in a difficult life. It all fell into place now, everything she hadn't told him in their brief conversation.

Lot might have protected his family from the men of the city, but he did not protect them from himself. His wife was their daughters' true protector, and she had made many a sacrifice for her family. She was strong, admirably so, and Castiel knew she deserved his protection, even if the rest of this town and family did not.

After serving as her family's guardian in so long, it was time someone would rise as her protector.

"I think it is time for us to go, Balthazar," Castiel said, as the argument continued outside.

"But they will take you!" Lot's wife said, and Castiel could feel the conflict in her emotions, on one hand wishing for their safety and on the other praying for her daughters'.

"I assure you, ma'am," Balthazar said with a smile, "They will not."

"When they are gone," Castiel continued, "take your family and run. Leave this city, and do not look back. This is of utmost importance. Come morning, Sodom shall be in ashes. _But you must not look back._"

"I don't understand…" The woman said, watching them with confusion and fear, drawing her daughters close with the arm she had wrapped around them.

"You will." He reassured, and then Balthazar pushed the door open and they stepped out.

The crowd that had gathered jeered and whistled, one licking his lips hungrily as one of his fellows held him back, and Castiel could almost feel their sickening anticipation.

"Lot," Balthazar said, "Take your family and run. This city will be destroyed tomorrow. Get out. Don't look back."

Lot's eyes widened in comprehension as he realized what the two were, and he fell to his knees, bowing deeply to the two.

"There is no time for that!" Balthazar chastised, sending a quick glance at the assembled men, who hadn't yet understood they were in the presence of angels. "Leave! Now!" Lot nodded and scrambled away, shutting the door behind him, and Balthazar nodded to Castiel, an almost vicious smile spreading on his face.

A man grabbed at Castiel's arm, but the angel slammed it away, breaking it with a loud _crack_. The others watched for a moment, stunned, and then they swarmed upon them.

"Wrong choice, boys," Balthazar said, and the angels released their vessels, revealing their true forms.

Men screamed as their eyes burned in their heads and they were blinded, and stumbled away, unseeing, running into each other and clutching at their faces. Castiel sent out a single call to heaven, and the soldiers were unleashed. Destruction spread through Sodom as every single man, woman, and child was smitten but the small family that ran away through the hills.

_It is my home_, a small voice said in the back of Castiel's mind as he left three men lying lifeless on the ground.

_This is where I raised my daughters._ It said as he destroyed a group of houses, leaving only rubble.

_Where I have lived for many years._ He made a house collapse on a family of six.

_Where I belong._ A husband and a wife, killed in their bed.

_This is my home._ He found one of the men he had blinded earlier, the one who had grabbed at his hand, and sent his sold to hell with a touch.

_My home_. There were two children standing in front of him, a boy and a girl, closing their eyes tightly against the blinding light of his true form.

'_NO.' _This voice was his, a high-pitched scream of his angelic form. '_ENOUGH.' _He wouldn't kill those children. He wouldn't kill the few who had survived, crawling through the streets like broken animals. He'd had enough.

"Castiel." He was in an unfamiliar room in the depths of heaven. There was an angel already waiting for him. "My name is Naomi."

When Naomi deemed him fit to be released, he was a warrior of heaven, ready to serve his Father. He did not serve humans. He did not serve the green-eyed woman.

"You must kill her." Naomi ordered, and he knew she was right. It was the only course of action.

Balthazar found him later, standing by her corpse in his true form, watching without compassion as Sodom burned in a rain of fire and sulfur. "Cas?" He asked, "Why did you kill her? I thought you liked her…"

"She looked back." Castiel replied simply. It was an easy lie, and a believable one at that. After all, she had believed this was her home. And anyone who called this place of sin a home must be a sinner themselves.

"I'm sorry." Balthazar drew a thin rod from midair. Castiel was impassive to the sentiment. He was not sorry. When the rod touched the corpse, a change overcame it. Salt climbed over its edges and formed into a spire above her, preserving her in a pillar of salt for eternity. "She was a good woman. She deserves this respect." And Balthazar was gone, and Castiel hadn't even asked about the curious staff.

"Now forget," Naomi said as he found himself back in her room, and he did.

He had never considered rebellion.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Egypt, when Michael demanded the death of the first-born sons.

Castiel had wept with the rest of heaven when God's chosen were enslaved, although he could not remember when that had happened. There were many things he could not remember, small contradictions between his mind and his reality. But surely that too was a part of his Father's will, and not for him to doubt. When the Chosen One, Moses, son of Amram and Yocheved, brother to Aaron and Miriam, was born and saved from the Nile by the daughter of Pharaoh, he rejoiced with his Brothers. And as the child grew, and the archangels declared heaven would have to take action on the boy's side soon, Castiel prepared for war along with the rest of Anael's garrison.

Castiel had never been on Earth before, and he looked with silent envy as his brothers were sent, one after another. First was Balthazar, sent by Gabriel to give Moses the staff that would lend him the power to defeat the Egyptians. Next came the ten plagues. Never before had so many angels been sent to do heaven's work on earth since their Father had disappeared.

Blood, frogs, gnats, wild animals, pestilence, boils, hail, locusts and darkness. Every day, a different group of angels was sent to carry out the curse. Heaven was a hive of activity, as all knew the day was coming. The liberation of the Children of Israel demanded an operation greater than Sodom, cleverer than Babel, more effective than the flood.

The flood hadn't been very effective, considering that despite all of humanity being wiped out, the first thing the survivors did was engage in rape and murder and blasphemy.

No, this final curse was going to shock the humans to the core, and all awaited Michael's decision on the curse's nature. And then the tenth day came, and the plan was announced. The firstborn sons had to die.

The Children of Israel painted their doors with lambs' blood as the darkness faded from Egypt, giving way to a new terror. The world waited with baited breath. And heaven's might was unleashed.

The angels swept through the city like silent death on wings, not even taking vessels or revealing their true forms, simply manifesting as the celestial wavelengths they were, tearing through the doomed children and leaving their souls behind for Death.

The Reapers were everywhere that night. Men and women, old and young, in the forms of animals or wraiths or monsters, Death's servants waited to take the souls the angels left out for them. No words were exchanged between the two armies. None were needed. The angels killed, the Reapers took the souls, and the humans died.

Egypt was a large country, with more families than there were angels in heaven. Castiel had lost count of how many he had slain, and the night was still young. He occasionally passed by his brothers as they flew through Egypt at the speed of light, and they shortly greeted each other before going back to their assigned task. And what a task!

But it could not last, of course. Not when Castiel swept over three houses in a row with their doors painted red and finally found a small, broken down home with two children cowering inside, the eldest protecting his younger brother as screams swept through the city.

The younger boy couldn't have been over four years old, and as Castiel approached he covered his ears and wailed softly into his brother's tunic. The older boy, who was almost a man of twelve by his looks, did not seem to mind the angel's voice, though, and before he had realized the danger looked up with a warning glare in his bright green eyes.

And screamed, as his eyes burned and the flesh around them scorched as he beheld the angel's true form. Crying through sockets that could no longer give tears, the boy fumbled until he found his brother's eyes and covered them with his grimy hand, shielding them from the sight even as he gasped with pain.

"Leave us alone!" The eldest managed to whimper with false bravado. "Let us go!"

'_I AM SORRY', _Castiel told the boy, and he was. He didn't know why. The boy had been destined to die, and it was of no consequence whether he was blinded first or not.

"I don't care!" The Egyptian boy hugged his brother closer. "Don't touch my brother!"

'_I WON'T. I CAME FOR YOU ONLY.' _Why was he talking to the human instead of killing him?

"Then you might as well kill him too," a whimper escaped from the younger boy at those words, "Because I'm all he has left now."

Something about that released a wave of sympathy in Castiel's being, sympathy for children with an absent father that were forced to care for themselves and each other. He wouldn't kill the boy. He couldn't. Within moments, he was out of the small home, out of the town, and on a farm worked by the Israeli slaves. There was a slaughtered lamb that had been bled earlier that evening, and he only slightly hesitated in taking some of that blood to color the boys' door with.

The older boy heard his approach. "I told you to go away!" He called out, staring blindly at the door. Castiel did not answer, only left the blood on the doorframe and left. From a distance, he heard the younger child exclaim that there was blood on the door, and the eldest mutter _thank you_, almost like a prayer.

Castiel flew to a secluded area in the largely uninhabited mountains of Gallia, where he huddled to himself, still in his true form, overcome by the horror of what he had done, by the blood of innocents, of _children_ who had died for no sin but being born to the wrong people on his hands. He had saved those two, yes, but at what price? The elder was blinded, those bright green eyes burned out of his skull, and so many others were dead. And even if he did not kill those left, another angel would.

It was at that moment that he felt, for the first time, gnawing doubts about heaven's orders, about his brothers, the archangels, who allowed such a slaughter. He was done, Castiel decided. He would no longer follow those unjust orders.

But when he was brought to a room in heaven and met an angel called Naomi, his resolution crumbled as the need to follow, to obey, was drilled into his core time and time again.

"Who are you?" Naomi asked when she was done.

"I am Castiel."

"What are you?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

"And who do you serve?"

"I serve heaven, I serve our Father. I do not serve humans."

"Good. But you must prove it to me, Castiel."

"How?" He would do anything to prove himself a loyal servant of heaven once more, to overcome his failure and misguided attempt at rebellion. The very thought of rebellion would have sickened him to the core, if he had possessed the emotions necessary.

"You must kill the boy."

Something akin to horror flickered and died in Castiel, but the words sprung forward unbidden. "His door is painted with lambs' blood."

Naomi shook her head sadly. "The blood put there by you, not because of his people. I had thought we were past this, Castiel. Or do we need to go through this again?"

"No." He assured her. "I am a loyal servant of heaven."

"Then you will kill the boy?"

"If those are my orders." Disobedience was the worst sin, one he couldn't fall to again.

"They are."

The blind human recognized his approach and re-covered the other boy's eyes, for all the good that would do. "Is that you again? Thank you, now go away!"

Castiel felt something stir in him as he watched the child, something that should have been buried deep. For a moment, he was back in Naomi's room. "What are you waiting for?" She asked. "Kill him!"

Back on Earth, he found himself drawing closer, yet still hesitating.

"Kill him!" Naomi demanded.

And Castiel's form moved on its own accord, and he found himself running through the human, smiting his soul out of his frail mortal body, leaving him cold and lifeless in the arms of the tiny child.

"No!" The child screamed, eyes tightly screwed shut. "Bring him back!" But the angel was already gone.

Come morning, Castiel remembered nothing. When the soldiers returned to heaven, he and the others who had stayed behind, the cupids and other such low-ranking angels, welcomed them back, congratulating their success. There were days when Castiel found himself wondering why he, a Seraph and captain of his own squad, had been left behind. Perhaps it had to do with the gaping holes in his memory, which were wider than they had ever been. Either way, he was a loyal soldier of heaven. If he was commanded to fight, he would fight. And if he had to stay behind… he would do that too.

* * *

The first time Castiel rebelled against heaven was when the Temple fell to Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, who broke through the gates of Jerusalem with a massive army and burned the holy place to the ground.

Balthazar had died several centuries ago. Rumors had it that the angel had Fallen, or left heaven of his own accord, but the high order of heaven quickly spread the world that it was not the case. Balthazar had died honorably, killed in battle by powerful demons. Castiel, however, suspected otherwise.

Balthazar wouldn't let himself be killed by demons, or anything less than an angel at that. And before his disappearance, Balthazar had come to Castiel with a request. "Come with me, Cas."

"Come where?"

"Away from here. Where we can be free."

"This is our home, Balthazar. We are soldiers of God."

"I can't believe I am hearing this from _you_, of all our brothers."

"Why?" Castiel did not understand. He was one of heaven's most loyal soldiers, never questioning, never disobeying in the slightest, even when others were tempted.

"Because I learned doubt from you." And with that cryptic statement, Balthazar had disappeared, and been reported dead. Years and decades passed, and the angel was forgotten to most of heaven. So Castiel did not speak of him either.

Michael and Raphael had claimed Nebuchadnezzar was a tool of their Father to punish the kingdom of Judas for their crimes, and heaven was to aid his battle. Seraphs were sent into his troops using soldiers as vessels, and when the walls were breached, Castiel, wearing a soldier of short stature but high in the chain of command, aided in the destruction.

He didn't want to burn the Temple dedicated to his Father's glory, with all its beauty and riches, both physical and cultural. He didn't want to kill the green-eyed priest, who had remained in the temple even as it was burned, praying to God and to heaven to save him right to the very end.

But as soon as he was summoned to an angel called Naomi and his mind was remade in heaven's image, he did so anyway.

And in the end, he remembered none of it. He had been in heaven while Jerusalem fell. He had never considered disobedience. Balthazar was dead, and had never come to him with that odd conversation.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in Jerusalem, during a crusade that had been doomed to failure by the archangels before it began.

Castiel had spent several weeks travelling wearing a vessel, a strong man who had once been a blacksmith. He and several of his brothers had used this vessel to join the crusade and travel with knights and commoners alike over land and sea, and a strange kinship had formed over those weeks.

It was difficult to maintain cover among humans while living with them constantly and not built some tentative connection, a bond of some sort. Even though Castiel knew that by the end of the journey, the humans will die in a battle against the Muslims who were in control of Jerusalem, he couldn't help but come to like several of them, including a young knight with red hair and green eyes that, despite his rank, treated the "commoners" of their group as though they were equals. The knight had shared many a talk with Castiel, who mostly told the life story of his vessel, but would occasionally reveal details about himself, about his many siblings and his favorite brother who had died.

He should have known he'd grown too close. He should have known no good would come out of it. He should have known that once the fighting began, he wouldn't be able to kill them man no matter what that angel, Naomi, demanded.

He hadn't expected for her to trap him with a hundred copies of the knight, though. He hadn't expected her to tell him to kill them all. At first, it had been difficult. He had resisted and fought and screamed, for the first copy and the second and the third. But by the hundredth knight she sent his way, he was too numb to care.

And when she put the real knight in front of him, Castiel cut him down without hesitation.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in the Great War that would later come to be known as World War I, when he was sent to kill a small squad of German soldiers carrying vital information that must not be allowed to reach Berlin.

And the commander of that squad had looked almost familiar to him, despite his memory that seemed to betray him every so often, those bright green eyes calling out at something in the depths of his being.

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was during the second Great War, World War II, in Poland, when the Germans had taken to rounding up all the Jews and killing them off in the masses.

He had taken a child with green eyes from the camps when he had somehow received the child's prayer, bringing the small girl to a monastery that had already hidden several Jewish girls in the guise of nuns. In the end, Naomi had found out about that as well.

* * *

The first time Castiel rebelled against heaven was in America, not long before the Apocalypse was destined to take place.

Castiel had been the only Seraph to make it through the layers of hell and pull out the righteous man who had broken the first seal and was now the only one who could stop the end of days, or so he'd been told.

He had spent years watching over the green-eyed man and his brother, guarding them against angels and demons and men. He had Fallen, died, and been resurrected by his Father. He had rebelled and become a god and let loose the horrors of purgatory.

And eventually, the angel Naomi found him.

"How many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?" he'd asked her.

"Frankly? Too damn many."

* * *

The first time Castiel disobeyed heaven was in 2574.

* * *

_So what did you think? I actually started this with a different ending in mind, but once this idea came to me I ended up going with it. It was a hard choice... Review please!_


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